Time for a Change

When my first husband died, I had some well-intentioned friends who suggested that I get a pet, possibly a dog. While I was grateful they did not ask for his golf clubs (see “Don’t ask for the dead man’s golf clubs” book), I was reluctant to take their advice.

After a few weeks of considering their thoughts, I took the plunge. Well, I say plunge, because we got a fish and a ten gallon tank instead. We actually bought two. The first goldfish we named Vern, after an old curmudgeon, but a lovely gentleman, that I knew from the Oregon Coast. The second we named Speedy, named by Davis’ because if fish could fly through water, this one appeared to do so.

In the ensuing years that we cleaned tanks, prayed over their deaths, and replaced these fish with a few new ones, I was grateful that I had not gotten a dog. There are many risk-takers out in the world. I believe myself to be one of them. I am always trying out new species of plants and was the first to utilize the fiber optic grass in my tribal head pot bought for me years ago. I ran hurdles in high school, and traveled with the college ski club to Colorado without knowing a soul. But I am not a risk taker when it comes to animals, or shall I say, anything other than a human being, or a plant.

So, it comes with some surprise that I found, now was the time to have a dog. I have no concrete reasons other then that when I sit on the kitchen floor with tears in my eyes from a sadness I am experiencing, I comprehend why this dog was put in my life.

Enzo was named after a character in a book who sat with the owner’s wife while she fought cancer. And sometimes, I project this same quality onto my Enzo. When he does sense in me, a sadness, he will engage in eye to eye contact, of course he does this when he has been bad, or is trying to be cute, but nonetheless, his rich chocolate eyes remind me of earth and grounding. And there is a part of me that whispers, namaste, to him – the divine in you honors the divine in me.

I hold Enzo some mornings after the kids leave, and cry for a sister who is in mental and physical pain and for her daughter, my niece, who does not understand why the world asks this of her young soul. And sometimes tears well up because I think Enzo could have shouldered some of my sadness from years ago when Devin died yet I was too stubborn to give in to the notion of dog. I hold onto Enzo and his innocence, as if I am still holding on to some piece of my sister spirit that has been kept safe from harm.

I pray that Enzo can help change my heart. A heart that has become hardened, a heart that no longer holds my faith in God, the justice system. A heart that can only open itself up to the human condition and this little furry animal that a fish could never replace. Maybe I don’t really need a change of heart, I just need help turning it right side up again so that all of life does not run out me. I hope Enzo is strong enough for the both of us.

The Origin of "Enzo"

Lately, we have been asked, “What is the origin of the name Enzo?” Of course, those that know me and know my heritage, know too that Enzo is Italian. Yeah, I know his kind was named after King Charles and all that baloney in the English court, but I tell you, I have seen Enzo in a fit at nighttime, and I tell you, this pup is Italian.

Let’s begin with what Enzo is not. His name is not Endzone, sorry ultimate Frisbee players on our daughter’s teams. His name is not Enzoroni, Mark, he is not a pasta of any sorts. He is not a girl, and his name is not Enza, or short for “influenza”.

His name is derived from the Latin surname Laurentius, that is, "citizen or descendent of Laurento," ancient city of the Lazio region that the Romans associated with a "forest of laurel." His day is celebrated with St. Lawrence on August 10, 2009. Every saint in Italy has their day, and patrons with those names celebrate. Enzo should be no different.

By the way, laurel is a form of leaf usually made into a wreath that is horseshoe shaped. In Greek myths, it was given to special people, such as winners in competitions in poetry or sports. This is good - we are writers and sportsters here in the house. Of course, it was also used as a drug so the ancients could get stoned. We do not subscribe to that, but a little bit for Enzo before bed would not hurt.

Until recent times, laurel wreaths were used to show that someone had done something special (for example, the Olympics gave laurel wreaths to the winners). The saying "resting on one's laurels" came from this and meant that someone can relax now because he or she did something good in the past. The Italians do the rest thing very well. I believe they are still resting from the Roman Empire times. This is surely true of Enzo too, only his idea of relaxing involves laps, usually when we are sitting on the kitchen floor, with no pillow in sight for the weary owners.

To sum up Enzo in one word would be doing him a great injustice. I can tell you that when I call out, "Andiamo", that boy moves. So if I really, really had to come up with one word, I would, of course, say Italian!

With Apologies

05-01-2009

The following is in order of occurrence:

I apologize to my grass for its share of dog poop it has held, and for the share of dog poop that I cannot scoop up with our new Scoop it and Sack it.

I apologize to the shoe company Clark’s, maker of the Privo brand, for defiling their shoes, my brand new (read one day old) shoes, with dog poop that I did not know I stepped in.

I apologize to my kids for telling them all the time to wipe their shoes when I did not have any inkling there was doo-doo below mine and just assumed it was dirt, and smeared that across the rug in the garage.

I apologize to my husband who sat next to me in the movie theatre last night, and put up with my constant seat hopping because I thought the seats smelled funny.

I apologize to the movie theatre. I am sure that Regal Cinemas has cleaned all sorts of bodily excrements off their seats and floor, but one would suppose it was more human waste that dog’s.

I apologize again to my husband, because we took his car. I was tired of driving my new car (only a female can make that statement) and thus carried dog doo onto the mats of his Lexus. He may notice that on his way to work this morning.

I apologize to Enzo, for when he had an accident this morning, following my accident from yesterday, it may very well be because he sniffed out where my shoes had tread the day before.

Finally, I apologize to my neighbors, who, over the course of ten years, I have consistently cursed out under my breath for not picking up their dog poop and have a new found respect for the undesirable but necessary task.